Bitter Cost
by Isabella Raven
Summary: After they starbursted from Scorpius's command carrier, Crais and Talyn thought they'd saved the universe from the threat of wormhole weapons. Until something goes drastically wrong.


Disclaimer: Don't own nuthing. Characters belong to Farscape peoples, the song is Judith by A Perfect Circle. Nuthin is mine. 

Enjoy! 

-Isabella 

*** 

Talyn pulled on the small, rather dilapidated-looking prowler into his hanger, keeping the inner doors closed after the pressure returned to normal as the canopy was opened, and a Peacekeeper, unidentifiable under the suit and helmet, crawled out. The person stumbled a few steps, reaching up to remove his helmet before he collapsed. 

Crais's expression darkened with anger when he saw who had been in that prowler, turning away as Talyn asked why he didn't help Bracca. 

"He chose his path, Talyn. I can do nothing for him." 

**You're such an inspiration for the ways   
That I will never ever choose to be   
Oh so many ways for me to show you   
How the savior has abandoned you**

It had been shortly after they'd starbursted from inside the command carrier when they'd heard it. War had broken out between the Peacekeepers and the Scarrens. They thought they had saved the universe from the worst threat, and didn't worry as much as they should have. 

They were healing, had found Crichton and Aeryn again when they heard of the battle of Lorilie - a planet famed through the Uncharted Territories for its waterfalls, its lush forests, and cool climate. It had been destroyed by a new weapon while a Scarren scout was in the area. Three million people, Sebacians and aliens, killed because they were in the wrong place. 

When they'd gotten there, seen the damage, all they were able to compare it to was the weapon that had destroyed the Scarren dreadnought, that the ancient had helped them to build. It had been a devestating blow to think that they had failed - and so many innocent people had paid the price. 

**Your Lord and your Christ   
Took all you had and   
Still you pray, you never stray   
Never - never thought to question why**

They - Crais and Aeryn and Crichton - heard of more incidents like Lorilie, tracking the weapon and its creator across the Uncharted Territories. It was as elusive as a solar flare, as insubstantial as a ghost for all they could do, though they were convinced it was Scorpius they were chasing. 

More worlds followed Lorilie, the death toll mounting as they tried harder to catch them. Then the targets became more random, more mercenary in thier approach. Not like Scorpius. But still, it was their only lead, their only clue, only suspect. 

**It's not like you killed someone   
It's not like you drove a hateful spear into his side   
Praise the one who left you   
Broken down and paralyzed**

Until they found him dying in the wreckage of a ship near the next one. He had died before he could tell them who had done this, blood leaking out across Talyn's decking, heat radiating from his body as his cooling suit completely shut down. 

Now who were they chasing? Who had the technology to commit destruction on such a large scale? They had only one answer, Crais and Aeryn, but Crichton felt compelled to argue against it. How could she kill? It was against the natural instincts of most people, he argued, though bounty hunters and mercenaries were common throughout the Uncharted Territories, and the Peacekeepers and Scarrens alike had no compunction about killing anyone who got in their way. 

**He did it all for you   
He did it all for you**

Bracca woke up several arns later, still on the cool plating of Talyn's hanger, struggling to his feet, and shedding the space suit to reveal a torn and tattered uniform beneath. Blood was visible through every cut and jagged rip in the leather, matted in his hair, crusted over trickles on his face. 

He managed to make it to the doors, activating the com near it after two unsuccessful attempts. "Crais. Captain. Listen to me. You have to listen." His voice was horse, and tired - and an unwelcome intrusion on Crais's concentration. 

"Why should I?" 

He nearly growled, and there was silence on the other end for a moment before it was broken by bitter laughter. 

"I don't know." Bracca paused, his next words choosen as carefully as he could. "I know who is behind the attacks. I can tell you." Crais could hear the sour note behind that. Bracca, once almost arrogant about what he was, smug, was reduced to pleading, no longer the superior one. 

"What do you want?" Crais was curious now, wondering what had made Bracca willing to bargin. 

"My life." 

Crais lifted a single eyebrow, thinking a moment before he told Talyn to open the inner doors to the hanger once he was down there. Aeryn and Crichton met him there, wary and suspicious expressions on their faces, weapons at the ready should Bracca prove as trecherous as they were certain he could be. 

But only the battered form of Bracca staggered through, taking a few steps before collapsing, Crais barely catching him before he hit the floor. 

**Oh so many many ways for me to show you   
How your dogma has abandoned you   
Pray to your Christ, to your god**

Bracca dreamed. Nightmares of blood, fire and destruction, or watching everything he held true torn down around him. His Peacekeeper discepline, his doctrine, his dogma - none of it was important to those who controlled him. They only cared about the money, and causing as much destruction and mayhem as was possible. 

He whimpered in his sleep, pleading with the endless march of faceless, nameless bodies. The lifeless corpse of a child floated before his eyes, the tattered uniform of a Peacekeeper cadet clothing what little remained of the burnt and twisted body. Sebacians, Scarrens, Nebari, Luxons. Hynerians. Delvians. Aliens he could no longer identify, they were so badly burned - so destroyed. 

**Never taste of the fruit   
Never stray, never break   
Never - choke on a lie**

Even after they'd murdered Scorpius, when the half-breed had becoming too demanding, too much of a burden, he'd continued to do what they said. Praying it would get better. That he wouldn't find he was living a lie. But it hadn't. It had only gotten worse, the people greedier, more depraved. 

**Even though he's the one who did this to you   
You never thought to question why**

When he'd finally had the spine to tell them it was wrong, that they were wrong, they'd trie to kill him. He'd escaped, but barely, blood pooling in his boots as he flew the little prowler out. It had nearly been crippled as he fled, but he'd made it, gotten away. But what price had been paid? 

If only he'd been able to think for himself earlier, had left earlier. Maybe fewer would have died. Maybe that cadet would have become a captain, perhaps he would still have his pride, his dignity. 

Bracca woke with a near scream, panting in fear, startling the figure lounging against the door upright. It took him several moments to realize it wasn't them back to kill him, but his former commander, that it was Crais, not the creatures who killed for pleasure. An unfamiliar melody playing in the background helped to soothe him, and as he calmed, Crais came over, setting a chair to face the bed. 

After several moments of silence, Bracca spoke with a croaked request for water. Crais passed him a glass in silence, and the now ex-Peacekeeper gulped it down greedily. He'd listened to what the younger man had been saying in his sleep - mutterings and mumblings in which one word had stood out, sending chills running down Crais's spine. 

A fearful whisper of "Furlow". 

**Not like you killed someone   
It's not like you drove a spiteful spear into his side**

"I killed them. All of those innocents." Bracca's first words after he'd handed the empty water glass back were a surprise, but as he continued, a horrfying nightmare unfolded - of fear, betrayal, and death. A tale that he knew he'd never forget. 

Bracca kept his gaze on the wall as he related the story, afraid to look at Crais. When he did, he saw something akin to understanding in his eyes - no condemnation, no pity, no disgust. No sympathy, either, and Bracca would have turned from that as quickly as from pity. He would rather die than be the recipient of someone's pity or sympathy. 

"You will not kill me now that I have told you?" 

"I give you my word." 

At least there was something Bracca could still believe in after the last two cycles of uncertainty. Once Crais gave his word, he never went back on it. 

**Talk to Jesus Christ   
As if he knows the reasons why   
He did it all for you**

"Give me something to do." 

Three weekens since Bracca had come on board, and he had healed enough to leave the medical bay. He was a very irritating person now that he wasn't bed ridden - always getting in the way, wanting to do something. At least, Crichton complained he was irritating. And sometimes Crais agreed with him. Right now was one of those times. 

"There is nothing I can give you to do, Bracca." His voice was a near growl, and he heard an impatient noise behind him. 

"I can't just sit around doing nothing. Not with... them out there." There was a determination about Bracca that Crais recognized, and understood. But this was his ship, and he was not letting Bracca near anything he considered important, not now. He may have understood some of what the younger man was dealing with, but that made his even warier to trust him. 

**Thank your god   
Your Lord, your Christ   
He did this**

The destruction was greater than any before. The four that stood on the command deck in Talyn were speechless, anger boiling up inside each of them. What lay before them had once been Peacekeeper High Command. Sebacia, the home-world. A green and blue and white world full of people, vibrant with life, bustling with promise. The economic, cultural, and social hub of a people scattered over a broad swath of the stars. 

"Everytime we are too late. Even now, with him, we are too late!" Crichton's voice was angry, and Crais held his silence, wanting nothing more than to let loose in an angry tirade, but unable to do so. He was the captain, the leader. He had to hold together, or loose everything. 

Bracca left in silence, Crais following him through Talyn's internal sensors to the gym. There he began the forms of the Pathak regime, trying to calm down. Crais wished he could join the other man, but knew that it would be impossible. He could not leave things to the whims of the human and the swift and single minded actions of Aeryn. He had to mediate, had to make sure they could find everything that could help them. There was only one place they could head next, and cause as much mayhem. 

**Took all you had and   
Left you this way   
Still you pray**

They were too late this time, as well. The Scarren homeworld lay in ruins before them, more lives lost because they could not catch up. Because they were too slow. Yet still, they had to flee because the Scarrens recognized them, and tried to kill them. No matter that they offered aid. No matter that the Scarren fleet was in ruins, and Talyn only left because Crais would not have their blood on his hands. No matter that the universe was being torn apart around them by this group of rogues who thrived on destruction and wuld leave nothing for anyone to conquer or guard. 

They could only race the clock to the next. And the next. And the next. Always too late, closer and closer, but always just too late. There was one more world that they feared for, and they prayed to any god that might exist, that might hear them, that they made it. Crichton, especially. He didn't want to see his home world die in the fire-storm that had taken so many others. 

**You never stray, you never   
You never taste of the fruit   
Never thought to question why**

Even this last time. Even this one last time. They were too late to stop the planet's destruction, but no more would follow that one. No more would face the firestorm of their own star and fall into oblivion. Furlow, Grayza - all of their crew died in an explosion of silent lights and blazing fire as Talyn let loose with every one of his massive canons. 

Crichton wept in the quarters he shared with Aeryn, tears of helpless rage and grief. 

Aeryn took her prowler out, and sat there, not listening, not talking, simply looking at the world she'd seen brought to life through Crichton's eyes. 

Bracca returned to the gym, exhausting himself, nearly killing himself trying to forget the pain of failure. 

Crais vanished into the bowels of Talyn, where no one could find him, and alternately raged and wept - unstable as ever, and needing only another straw added to the burden to see the truth before his eyes. 

**Thank your god Thank your god**


End file.
